The Redwood Rebel (The Redwood War Book 1)

by Lorna George

  Looking down at the small heap of would-be warrior, the torch light glinted off the cold steel in her other hand. This would have been a lot easier if she could just kill anyone they came up against indiscriminately, but it seemed at some point today she had become a little more scrupulous. How inconvenient.

  Suddenly aware of Lord Rayan rushing quietly up towards her, she pre-empted the reprimand she knew was coming. She knelt down to the comatose young man and began to disarm him. ‘It’s in our best interest to work together on this, and work quickly. I’d like to avoid as much confrontation as possible, but trust me when I say no one is looking out for my well-being as much as I am. That said, we both stand a much better chance with the other watching our back, agreed?’

  The guard had a single-handed battle axe and a large broadsword. Tucking her dagger safely back into her boot, she stood up again and offered Lord Rayan the sword. Lord Rayan hesitated a moment, then sighed heavily and took the blade. ‘Agreed.’

  ‘Okay, good.’ She tested the weight of the axe and rolled her shoulders experimentally. It felt good, and the urge to just run up the stairs and literally smash her way out to freedom made her body itch. It was hard to suppress it, but she did, and smiled at a very worried looking Lord Rayan instead. ‘Don’t worry. Your King is safe with me, I promise.’

  His mouth twitched in a ghost of a smile and he nodded. Satisfied that the dispute was over, at least for now, Naomi looked up the winding, narrow steps that led to the ground floor. She couldn’t hear anything, and the fact that there was still no hint of natural light made her feel certain that the sun had set some time ago. Beginning her ascent, Rayan right at her back, she was ready in case some unsuspecting soldier came around the bend at any given moment.

  There would be another guard at the top of the stairs, and again she felt the internal conflict of how she would deal with that. Christophe had said he would get as many of the Garrison’s soldiers to the South Wing as he could without arousing suspicion, but at this point she had no idea if he’d even succeeded, let alone if he had deliberately left men he trusted at the checkpoints. It had been a long time since she’d had this kind of moral conflict, torn between needing to get out and not wanting to be responsible for the deaths of innocent young Ffionites. What choice had they had in this current economic climate but to take the work they could get? More so, who had been left to defend the people once those loyal to the true lineage had been put to death or fled the country?

  Breathing silently through her nose, she stopped just around the last bend of the staircase and motioned for Rayan to stay still. She listened hard, and heard the faint metallic whisper of someone in chainmail fidgeting slightly. Naomi turned her axe upside down so she was fighting with the butt rather than the blade, and moving swiftly came up behind the guard and cracked him across the back of his head. He fell with nothing more than a whimper and the clatter of armour, but she looked both ways down the corridor just to make certain he had been alone.

  ‘We’re going to have to go through the service entrance,’ she explained to Lord Rayan whilst subtly reaching down to check the soldier’s pulse. He’d have one hell of a headache tomorrow, but he would live. ‘It’s the least likely to be guarded well, if at all.’

  ‘Really?’ he sounded incredibly dubious. ‘That seems a little lax, doesn’t it?’

  She snorted humourlessly. ‘And only two guards to watch a couple of very high profile prisoners isn’t?’

  Between the two of them they managed to pull the Ffionite guard up into a sitting position on the wooden chair by his post. It didn’t take long, but it was time well spent in Naomi’s opinion. This way he simply looked as though he was napping to any passer-by, potentially buying more time for them to get out unnoticed.

  Now satisfied, they began to walk briskly towards the East Wing. The urge to run was still strong, but she stomped down on it, knowing the sound of anything faster than a walk could arouse suspicion to anyone who might be listening. She led Lord Rayan through the garrison with more ease than even she had expected. They only passed a couple of pages, none of which even looked twice at them.

  So far she had avoided mentioning Christophe and his promised diversion. She wasn’t really sure why. She supposed it was something to do with admitting she was trusting him, even to herself. For now it was best to take the escape as it came. She didn’t like to think of herself as a hypocrite, and focused instead on the fact that trusting Christophe or not, this had been her initial plan, anyway. She would have taken this route with or without the possibility of most of the garrison’s force being drunk or drinking on the farthest side from where they were.

  Everywhere was dark and silent, but as they approached the service entrance, despite the late, or incredibly early hour, the low murmur of people talking and hurried steps began to creep to her ears. She glanced at Lord Rayan and motioned to the large, open arched doorway that was at the end of the long corridor, orange light streaming out of it warmly. He nodded and they both slowed to a nonchalant pace, lowering their weapons so they weren’t as conspicuous, but it didn’t look as though they were really trying to hide them. Hopefully their good luck would hold, but if they were going to come up against problems, it would be here.

  Naomi’s pulse was thumping loud in her ears as they walked through into the large scullery. They wouldn’t need to go through the kitchens at least, as they were likely to be the most full of bustle and any guards coming off duty, lingering in hopes of something to eat while the staff prepared for breakfast. The scullery was darker, a few maids cleaning, a few sleeping, and in the middle of the room were a couple of large tables where the boot boys and stable hands worked. No one even looked up, and for a brief, shining moment, Naomi was sure they were just going to walk out.

  In the silence of the night, the toll of the alarm bell sounded even louder than she ever remembered. They both started in shock at the sudden din, weapons raised at the ready. They had been discovered. There was nowhere to hide, and the scullery staff had all looked up from their work at the noise, their gazes falling suspiciously on them now.

  Looking to the door to the outside world, the sound of running feet and shouts coming from behind it, Naomi knew they had no choice but to fight their way out.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Naomi readied herself for whoever was going to burst through the doors, knowing that the whole garrison would be mobilizing to find them. Their chances of escape were incredibly slim now, but they might still get lucky. She visibly flinched when shriek of the angry harpy killed what small hope she had.

  ‘This way!’ Lord Rayan called, turning to run out the way they had come. Completely taken aback by the stupidity of running back inside the garrison, Naomi had only a heartbeat to decide whether to follow him or not. Growling in annoyance, she knew she couldn’t leave him here, and both of their odds were halved by becoming separated. She ran after him.

  ‘Stop!’ she yelled. ‘Where are you going?’

  He didn’t answer, but slowed to grab her arm and practically drag her along with him. She wondered if he even had a plan at all, but had to put her trust in the Commander to know what he was doing.

  ‘They’re here!’ someone shouted, and she saw a small squad of soldiers running out to block their way. ‘They’re heading for the C-!’

  The unfortunate guard found himself silenced by Naomi’s axe buried between his eyes, and taking advantage of the shock of the others, she released Lord Rayan’s hand and stooped mid-run to free the dagger from her boot. Desperation fuelled her actions, and she threw herself fighting into the soldiers. They seemed surprised by her sudden ferocity, and it didn’t take her long to rearm herself with a short sword, forcing her way through with a weapon in each hand and Lord Rayan protecting her back.

  The soldiers fell to their skilful blades, but the skirmish and shouting was quick to attract others. An arrow flew dangerously close past her ear. She heard Lord Rayan shout, picking up a crossbow from a fallen so
ldier and firing it deftly. He tossed it aside and they were running again.

  They seemed to be running deeper and deeper into enemy territory. They couldn’t fight their way out, and from Lord Rayan’s quickly slowing pace, she could tell his strength was leaving him. After the ordeal he had undergone, it didn’t surprise her. They were on borrowed time.

  Naomi collided with another garrison guard, her movements fluid and long-remembered. He fell and she had taken only a few steps before another two came at her. Lord Rayan was at her side once more, but she didn’t miss his laboured breathing. She felled her own opponent even as Lord Rayan took a flesh wound to his arm. His movements had become slower. It was too much for him and she was at once at his aid. The other soldier fell.

  ‘Come on!’ she yelled above the din, grasping his arm to help support his weight.

  ‘Get to the courtyard,’ he tried to push her away. ‘I’ll create a distraction.’

  ‘Oh no, you don’t! You think I’m going to leave you here?’

  Grabbing him more firmly and bracing herself under his arm, she forced him to move forward with her. She could see the doorway to the courtyard, and even though her instincts told her it was ridiculous to be running to an enclosed space, she kept them going. The soldiers weren’t charging them any more, instead gathering at the doorway and falling into a defensive formation. There were archers.

  ‘We aren’t going to make it…’ Rayan muttered.

  She had to silently agree with him. Her instinct was to charge the door before the guards were too organised, but Rayan was slow and a prime target. Also she couldn’t be sure she would be able to take them by herself, and dying pointlessly was most definitely not on her list of things to do right now. The only other option was surrender, and even that was risky. The last time she had surrendered it had been with purpose, and had got her locked up in an underground hole for four years.

  They had angered the harpy now, and it stood to reason that only one of them would be kept alive for the purpose of being bait for Arun. The fact that Odette’s sister seemed to be in charge and apparently had some kind of fixation on Naomi herself meant it was more likely to be her they would allow to live. She glanced at Lord Rayan and dismissed the idea.

  There had to be a way. If only she had her magic, she could have ripped the gate down with little to no effort!

  Even before the thought had passed, she felt a surge of heated magic inside her, and the heavy door all but exploded in flames. The force of it blew her and Lord Rayan back to the ground, knocking the wind out of her even as she automatically rolled to protect his head from any impending shrapnel. There were screams as the guards were blown apart, and coughing on the smoke-thick air, she looked with wide eyes down at Lord Rayan.

  ‘Not me,’ he gasped, trying to catch his own breath. ‘Did you..?’

  A little dazed, she opened her mouth to answer that she genuinely had no idea, only for it to come out as a high-pitched curse. Through the flaming decimation and bodies of guardsmen shrieking in pain as they burnt alive, a large, an all too familiar black dragon stalked into view.

  Struggling to pick herself up off the floor, she was struck by the fact that she felt nothing through their Bond still. She hadn’t since they had healed Rayan. Normally at this kind of proximity Arun was a nudging irritation in her mind, but there was nothing. Not even a whisper of a passing thought. Confused, she looked up at Arun, then turned to Lord Rayan sprawled still on the ground. She reached down to offer him assistance, and as their hands locked on each other’s elbows, the Commander looked almost pityingly at her.

  ‘What?’ she spoke bluntly, suddenly afraid of that expression. ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Your Bond,’ he sounded exhausted. ‘It’s too weak to sustain itself. He won’t be able to hold his form for much longer…’

  Realising the extra helping of danger Arun had put himself in to be there, Naomi felt something inside her snap. The Bond was what made him able to transform into a dragon, but also the source of his energy. The fact that she couldn’t feel even a flicker from his magic, that the deep well of power they had been sharing had nothing but a trickle left meant that once it gave out, not only would he return to his human form, but he would more than likely be unable to even stand. Furious, she scowled up at the dragon and stormed out into the courtyard.

  ‘What the hell is wrong with you?’ she bellowed, surprised by her own vehemence. ‘I said it was a trap, and instead of listening to me, you thought the best idea was to use up the last of your magic in this grand, heroic gesture?’

  Arun didn’t spare her a glance, snapping his wings out with enough force to knock her back once again and roaring up into the night sky. The harpy, Odette, screamed her response to the challenge.

  *

  Out of the darkness of the smoke filled sky, the harpy swooped towards them like a nightmare, talons outstretched. Despite the fact that he was now in his dragon form, Naomi still lifted her sword in readiness to defend him. Thankfully, Rayan pulled her back and out of the way, allowing Arun to focus on the impending attack. He blew a bright column of fire as the beast flew past, forcing it up and away from them, then turned his scaled head around to his mate and snarled in warning. She jumped back, her sense of self-preservation strong despite his hope that she knew he didn’t mean her any harm, but those green eyes sparked furiously up at him. He didn’t need their Bond to know how livid she was.

  The harpy wheeled around in the sky above, screeching painfully as it apparently tried to decide if it was worth another attack or not, giving him a chance to look Naomi over for injuries. She was dirty, a few scrapes here and there, but she appeared unharmed. She was shouting something, but it was taking all of his concentration to hold his form. When Rayan reached out to try and pull her back again, she actually turned on the other man and shoved him away.

  She was looking stronger than he had ever seen her, and despite that he could have used the extra magic that had obviously gone into speeding her recovery from her long imprisonment, he felt pleased by the sight.

  It was difficult to separate man and beast when he was in this form and he could feel himself becoming more and more lost to the primal instincts of the dragon. He had always secretly thought of her as belonging to him, but in this shape it was forefront in his mind. He couldn’t hide his possession of her, and he didn’t want to. To the dragon it made no sense, just as it made no sense for her to be always trying to protect him. It was his place to protect her, and he would do that.

  The man in him was glad the Bond was too weak for her to chance upon these thoughts.

  He looked at her now fuller, stronger form over once again and remembered how it had been to share her bed. There was a spark of magic between them then, and his eyes narrowed as he tried to discern if she had felt it, too. He was concerned to see her pointing up at the sky, a very uncharacteristic panic distorting her features as she shouted words he couldn’t grasp.

  He turned, only narrowly avoiding the outstretched claws of the harpy as it dived at him. He bellowed furiously at being almost caught out. Turning his head as quickly as possible to follow the Harpy’s movement through the air, he snapped his jaws. Exultant at the feeling of feathers caught between his sharp teeth, he shook his head viciously and tightened his grip.

  The screeches of pain from the beast trapped in his mouth were deafening, and he slammed the flapping, cawing thing down to the dusty ground. He had all but severed its wing from its shoulder, but still the wounded creature tried to escape. Glory in the impending kill reverberated through his scaled form and he scooped the pitiful thing’s shrieking head back between his strong jaws, holding its uselessly struggling body down with his front claws.

  It was far too easy to rip its head from its shoulders, and as the high pitched crying gurgled into silence, he looked proudly down to his mate. She was sprayed with hot red blood from his kill, and he dropped the head from his mouth before her feet.

  He watched as she looked
, wide-eyed, between him and the grisly trophy. She slowly tried to wipe the blood from her face with the back of her forearm, smearing it instead across her skin. There was something violent and entrancing in the sight. His head buzzed with the last dregs of his magic as he held onto this stronger, more impressive form for as long as possible. She liked this shape better, he was sure, and he was more able to protect her than his weak, man-body. He toyed with the idea of just taking her and flying away from all of the danger she was in. Hoarding her away for himself…

  He felt himself shrinking, his scales starting to morph into soft, defenceless skin and tried to hold onto his thoughts of pleasing her even as the man fought the dragon back. She was leaning over him now, concern and annoyance battling on her features, and he knew he had returned to his human form.

  There was a little magic still, and he knew there was something he could do to help replenish it before he was lost again to the human customs of courtship, the man in him certain that he must tread carefully to win his mate over. Reaching up to her with both hands, he cupped her head and neck, just below her ears, and revelled in the softness of her hair and skin. She jolted, apparently disliking the contact, but the dragon was still strong in him and he knew that for him to keep his power, she must surrender. The Bond was dragon magic, mating magic, and based almost entirely by physical contact and attraction. Her refusal to accept either had weakened it, and to protect her, it needed to be rebuilt.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she demanded, pulling harder to get free. ‘Let go of me!’